One Taste Is Not Enough
by TASHAx
Summary: She understood Chocolate. And People. But why couldn’t she understand him? He understood his fiancée. And his life. Then she came along. One thing they both know is that One Taste Is Not Enough.


**One Taste Is Not Enough**

The little chocolaiterie with its rich purple walls, large glass display cases and bubbling molten chocolate, had only been there in the village for a week or two. The scrumptious scents wafted through the always open, glass, door, and many people had already grown fond of the young woman who owned it; the woman who was always smiling, always willing to offer help or advice, always confident and so self-assured that she seemed able to lift anyone's spirits. Her passion was startling.

Her appearance, too, was as noticeable as her shop full of jewel tones. Her skin, ivory pale; her hair, blood red; and her clothes a jumble of shawls, pretty cardigans, neckerchiefs, polka dots and knee-length vibrant skirts. Her eyes were large and as brown as the chocolate she crafted, her hands long and slender; her slim fingers bejewelled with many precious gems, that simply could not look gaudy on her, where as with others would look cheap and tacky.

It was said she'd travelled in America, learning the ways of the descendants of ancient Mesoamericans, learning how they used the cocoa bean to heel, to endorse feelings and to harm; she was so open, and in a contradiction, such an enigma, which many pondered over. Not widely known to the private little world of the secluded village, she was also a witch; a twenty-six year old witch, who had attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for five years before the War had broken out. The War lasted two years, three months and six days, and after that Ginevra Weasley said her goodbyes and began to travel the world, falling in love with tribal and ancient magics. For six years she moved around France, Ireland and England; she would be drawn to certain places. . . Generally, the people were in dire need of her passion; all of them before this village had been lacking in vim and vigour. However, this time it appeared she'd listened wrongly to the winds of destiny.

No one was in need of her help here; fate had got it wrong, it seemed. . .Still the wind had not yet begun to blow, so she would remain here until it did; after all, it was quite a pleasant place to reside, with it's quaint little church and flurry of dated shops, the cute people - that all were happy in their quiet homes - with pub quizzes and village galas. . .all had embraced her here. She would be sorry to leave, but her heart was not at rest, her soul wasn't quite happy yet. _When had it been?_

Just then, she heard footsteps pass her threshold; a new comer, the sounds told her. He'd - oh yes, even from the back room she knew it was a man - never been there before, and, he was definitely from the city, London probably. Putting down the pastry she'd been kneading she headed into the front of the shop, her long crimson hair falling out of its hurried bun. In the centre of her shop stood a tall, slender man, his ice blond hair long and tied back elegantly with a thin black ribbon. He was wearing a long black cloak that had a serpent clasp upon it. His eyes were like mercury and his face looked marble-carved, all angular and beautiful.

". . .Draco Malfoy?"

He started slightly. "Er, yeah." He looked at the short redhead, all silks, patterns and curves. Her slender creamy calves the only bit of her that didn't appear decorated. Her cheeks were rosy and her eyes sparkling - a strikingly beautiful woman who seemed alive with vibrancy. How did she know him? . .He knew she wasn't Muggle for he'd sensed it the minute he'd walked into the shop; the rest of the village lacked the hum of magic, but this place was teeming with it. He walked towards the glass counter, standing opposite her.

"You won't remember me, I don't doubt; Ginevra Weasley -- _Ginny._"

"Oh! Bat Bogey Hex Girl. . .I mean, Ron's sister, yeah?"

She laughed at his slip-up -- she recalled in her fourth year when she'd cursed the boy. Well, at the time, it served him right - and since when was her brother "Ron", to him?

"Yes, I suppose I am," she chuckled. "Been a long time since I met someone who knew the Weasleys." He nodded. He hadn't seen her at all since the War, and only a couple of times during it. Hed assumed she'd moved away, unable to cope with the aftermath.

"Anyway. . .what are you looking for?"

"Something for my fiancée."

"Ah, okay. . .well, what's her favourite?"

He looked nonplussed and simply shrugged. "I see; typical male. Tell me about her. . .I'll find her favourite."

"Well, she's quiet and kind." Her hands drifted over the chocolates wrapped in purples and orange; far too garish for the future Lady Malfoy. "Likes to read, a lot; she's a very sweet girl, under-confident, but one of those. . . genuinely naive and untouched people; the world has left no cynical mark on her."

Ginevra's hands glided over the many chocolates listening to the description he reeled off for her. She stopped at the section of the shop devoted to caramels. This was definitely the right section. _Innocent. . .naive, yet nearly married to Malfoy, must be a bit special to make him settle down. . ._

"Vanilla Caramels! -- now, how many?"

"Twenty?"

She smiled fondly at his lack of knowledge; they couldn't have been long engaged. She peeled on a pair of dark purple gloves and began to pick up the fat little squares, the tops of which were dusted with light blue spirals. Inside they contained a vanilla caramel, which encased thin slices of pecan nuts.

"Done, Draco -- is that all you wish to buy?"

"Yes. . .Thank you." His demeanour had gone back to being cordial, detached and polite.

He paid for his fiancée's chocolates and bid the redhead goodbye. It in his mind to grab Ronald Weasley at some point in the Ministry and ask him if he'd seen his sister in a while; probably not, he thought. She looked untouched by Weasleys now; she revelled in pleasure, passion and indulgence, something none of her kin did. With Weasleys you knew them the moment you looked at one, but her. . .she was surrounded by a confident, enigmatic field that fizzled with some sort of deep magic that very few possessed, or if they did, very few allowed it free reign over them; most suppressed it and ignored its existence.

"Wait!" Something seemed to have made her yell out to him. He turned, his eyes questioning her sudden yelp. Thinking quickly; _Malfoy. Dignified. Snotty. Snobby. Up himself? _"I bet I know your favourite. . ."

A frown appeared in between his eyes but he shook it off as his eyes clashed with hers; they were so very. . .alive, a look he hadn't seen in any witch's eyes since the War. Sure, most were happy, but the twinkle in their eyes would forever be a jaded one. But not her.

She scrambled to the liquor section of her shop and picked one up that was wrapped in green and silver foils. "Here."

He unwrapped the delicate package; in the centre of his hand lay a dome-shaped confection constructed of dark chocolate. He put it into his mouth whole and bit. In the centre was a grape, dowsed in champagne; the chocolate tasted rich and bitter, but the fruit balanced the tart twang and made it delicious. "It's good. . .not my favourite, though."

And with those words, he left the shop. Ginny never got it wrong - never. She knew people, she knew chocolate. She supposed she hadn't read him right, hadn't looked at his aura, his pulse, his signature close enough, but it didn't matter; he was gone now, and for some reason her spirits seemed heavier and the wind even more reluctant to change.

0x-

"Smile, Emily; that frown does look most unattractive," chirped Ginny as she placed a steaming cup of spicy hot chocolate in front of the older, sad-looking, woman. The shop was fairly full of people - a line seated on tall, red leather stools, in front of them a slice of cake, a pastry or hot drink, all smelling and tasting equally delicious; some reading as they munched, others surveying the world over the top of the tall glass cups, decked with whipped cream. A happy, contented buzz swarmed around the shop; people chattered away in a spirited fashion, smiling as they picked their favourite confection.

Ginny, wearing her emerald green skirt and burnt orange shirt, was guessing the favourite of a new costumer - and getting it right, of course - when Draco Malfoy walked into the shop, his fingers intertwined with another's: his wife-to-be. Daphne Greengrass, jaw-length light brown hair, rosy cheeks, large blue eyes set in a cute face, and five and a half months pregnant with the Malfoy heir. She wore a long, pale green coat that was loose-fitting, though her bump was very obvious and she appeared to be glowing from her pregnancy.

A few usual customers went silent and stared at the newcomers. _Who were they? Not new villagers, there was nowhere up for sale. . ._ Ginny, noticing the silence, stood on her tip toes and looked over the many heads; Draco Malfoy was back, fiancée in tow. He led her toward a quieter end of the serving counter and she gazed in awe around her. Draco really had found the cutest chocolatirie she thought she'd ever encountered, and apparently it was owned by a very powerful witch. Of course, he hadn't said she was very powerful, but she could just sense it from the moment she'd entered, and when the striking redhead behind the glass counter had caught her gaze with those opulent brown eyes. Ginevra finished serving the customer, managing to sell the woman three small boxes of chocolate and sending her off with a free sample of something that would not be her favourite, but something she'd enjoy all the same. As the woman left the shop, Ginny knew she'd be back. Well, most people came back, but her, she was sure she'd return.

Seeing no one else yet needed her service, she strode down to where Draco stood, his wife sitting on a stool. She hadn't expected to see the blond-haired man again, let alone only fourteen days later.

"Back again, Draco?" She smiled brilliantly. "And you must be the lovely Daphne he was in here for last time." Daphne blushed under the intense gaze Ginevra appeared to have; it was like she could see everything that was not on the surface.

"That would be me."

"I take it you're here for more Vanilla Caramels; you're in luck, I just made a batch this morning - how's your back, by the way?" Daphne glared at her husband-to-be; she hated anyone knowing about the discomfort she was going through while carrying this baby - she didn't want people fussing all over her everywhere she went. Daphne wanted people to continue to tell her that pregnancy looked good on her, that she was glowing and looked more radiant than ever. "Oh no, Doll, Draco didn't tell me." She turned around and searched for the chocolates. Once she'd found the periwinkle-coloured tray which held the squat little squares she returned to the engaged couple, both looking slightly puzzled. "I just have strong intuitions." Gingerly, the brunette nodded, while Draco's grey eyes twinkled with mirth; he'd never known someone quite like Ginevra Weasley. The girl was a mystery.

"I'm Ginevra, by the by, or, y'know, just plain Ginny." She sent them both a dazzling smile, leaving no doubt in either of their minds that this girl could never be _plain_ anything. "So, tell me, how's the baby doing? Twenty-one weeks old?"

"Erm, five and a half months, approximately," answered Draco, smiling down at his wife, a cherishing look in his eyes.

"Umm, trust me, five months and one week, _exactly. _Now how many of these would you like?"

"Ten, please," gasped out Daphne. How did this woman know so much? Not even they knew the exact amount of weeks the baby had been within her. Ginny plucked out thirteen cubes of chocolate, the blue swirls on top of them looking elegant and enticing. Ten went into a silver box, tied with a sapphire-coloured ribbon, and one was slipped in front of both Draco and Daphne, while she bit the final one in half, too.

"Thank you." The brunette ate hers in little nibbles, savouring the creamy flavour, while Draco handed his to his fiancée.

"Not going to eat yours, Draco?" inquired Ginny, and she place the just-wrapped box into a small brown paper bag.

"I don't like them that much; too sickly."

Ginny raised her eyebrows, then quirked her lips. She stared straight at him, forgetting the shop, the customers, Daphne, and focused directly upon his eyes, he too experiencing a similar feeling - an inability to even care about anything but the redheaded enigma. Daphne, after finishing Draco's chocolate, stared at the two. She could feel herself becoming quite annoyed at the connection Ginny seemed to have hooked Draco on.

"I know your favourite," she said almost robotically. He'd been sweet and adoring with his wife; he loved her, was in love with her, tolerated her. She handed him what looked like a small chocolate cake case, inside it a light brown whip of something unidentifiable. "Chocolate Mascarpone Cup."

He bit into it; there was vanilla and a bitter tasting cream, the chocolate was mixed to perfection and melted in his mouth, but, "It's not my favourite."

Ginny bowed her head. "My mistake." She half-smiled, then turned her attentions to Daphne, who was seeming very irritated at being left out of the conversation for so very long. "Anything else you require?"

"No, no thank you." However she found she couldn't take the icy, jealous, over protective of her fiancé, tone she wanted to with the redhead.

"Well, then I must serve James." She indicated to a teenage boy who looked embarrassed that the beautiful shop owner knew him by name. Draco handed over the Muggle money to pay for his fiancée's chocolates and then proceeded to help her off of the chair. "Oh! But before you do leave - here you go, Daphne."

She had handed her a tall bottle in, the shape of an elongated pyramid. The glass was tinted pink, but within you could see the liquid was the colour of rust. Chocolate Zabaglione - it smelt of fermented fruit and rich, dark chocolate. Ninety percent cocoa, it tasted bitter, leaving a dry taste and texture within the mouth. "A spoonful each morning will help with your back." She nodded to the couple and was gone, before they could even say goodbye or offer money for the bottle of solution, off to serve the twitchy fifteen-year-old boy.

Once again, Draco ushered her out of the shop. The wind had now picked up outside.

"What a peculiar woman," remarked Daphne as she examined the contents of the vial she'd been handed.

"Yes. Definitely one of a kind." Draco smiled down at the mother of his child and kissed her sweetly upon the lips. "Let's go home, Daph."

0x-

That evening Ginny stayed awake well into the night, making fudge and various other chocolate delicacies. She was a little tipsy, drinking strong black coffee mixed with a chocolate liquor, and for some reason, when she tried to think of her purpose here and why she hadn't yet shipped out, all that she really could think about was Draco. Draco and Daphne; he really loved that woman so very much. Draco and chocolate; what was his favourite? Draco and fatherhood; he'd be an excellent dad. Why couldn't she pick his favourite? She'd seen right into him today and still, no favourite. . .what was his favourite. . ?

0x-

Ten days later, it was a mid-December morning, and Ginny had just opened her shop; however, she still looked fresh of face and her eyes sparkled. Today she'd opted for a red silk dress with short puffy sleeves, thick black tights, a pair of soft green leather shoes and a long black neck scarf. She was setting out the newest product she'd concocted, the first new creation in a few months - Malted Chocolate Chunks. Lumps of biscuits, cherries, raisins, marshmallows, and sickly melted chocolate glued it all together. They were crunchy, munchable, fruity, chewy and slightly sickly after a couple of slices. . . However, they were totally delicious and enjoyable; she was sure they'd go down a treat with the kids, they were so loaded with sugar!

Her first customer of the day was not, as she thought it would be, Marie Edwards arriving half an hour early in order to collect the cake she'd ordered a week ago for her daughter's twenty-first birthday; apparently her daughter attended a university and barely had the time - or the urge, Ginny mused - to visit her parents, in her old secluded village. But she was coming back to see her parents for this special occasion, and Mrs Edwards had said her daughter simply adored chocolate. Ginny had some idea of what the girl was like from how Marie had described her, and intended to send along a few White Chocolate Truffles that encased Cocoa Beans. Her first costumer of the day was Draco Malfoy. Alone.

He'd thought non-stop about the redhead, and as soon as an occasion had arisen he'd grabbed it to go visit her again. She was stunning. His heart began to beat a bit faster as he stepped in the shop; the scent, the feel of the place, screamed her to him and it felt right being here, surrounded by Ginevra Weasley.

"Back again, Draco?" She grinned from her position knelt down behind the counter, only the top half of her face and her arms visible as she arranged the chocolate segments on the plate, in a pyramid formation.

"Yes; it's my mother's birthday and figured you could help me find a suitable type of chocolate for her."

The redhead smiled and stood after a few seconds, once her chocolate wedge structure was complete. "Want to try one?" She gestured towards the plate. "They're just developed by me and are a free sample today, just to see how they go down; see if I should make them again, you know." Her eyes glinted with mischief and passion. Striding across the room, he took the top most segment and slipped it into his mouth.

"Mmm, I like it. Sweet, biscuity; a sure-fire success."

"Hah, thank you. . .Now, you're mother, you say?"

"Yes. She's forty-seven tomorrow and we've bought her a few things, well, Daph has. . .But I know mother has a secret penchant for sweet things, although she'll only allow herself to eat one a week; looking after the figure and all that."

Ginny laughed - a raucous, type of freedom-from-insecurity type of a sound. "Ah, one a week? What about looking after the soul?" She popped a Chocolate Wedge into her mouth and chewed away, looking content that she neither needed to or wanted to worry about the effect that it might have on her appearance. She turned and her eyes began to probe amongst her shelves. Draco thinking, as she did so, that there was certainly no need for this girl to worry about looks. She was lucky: slender yet shapely legs and arms, her waist tiny and her hips and bosom rounded and full - all natural he supposed, too; after all, he could hardly see Ginevra Weasley counting calories.

"So, I know the exterior of your mother; I know her pride and her beauty, her slight arrogance, her timid and yet determined persona; tell me the real her."

He took a seat on one of the tall stools and Ginny placed a glass of bitter coffee in front of him, sweetened by chocolate and almond oil. She too had a drink, and leant against the counter as he explained his mother, that the exterior wasn't a façade - it was who his Mother was; however, she was also caring and protective and loyal to her family and friends.

"Mmm. . .I do believe, I have the perfect solution" She drained her cup and disappeared into the back room - the baking room - for a few minutes before reappearing with a tray covered in small, very dark chocolate shapes. They had a square base, the side of the chocolate leaning in as though to make a triangle; however, the top of the chocolate did not finishing in a point for a smooth oval shape, a lime green line curving down the centre. "A pear flavoured ganache, made with terribly intense cocoa." She spoke the words in a hushed tone, lulling the utterance over her tongue as she leant right over the counter, inches from his face, lifted a chocolate and bit, half of it in her mouth, then pushed the second half into his mouth, her fingertips lingering there on his lips three seconds longer than necessary.

"Yes. Perfect." He whispered as she slowly recoiled back to her place behind the glass. Picking up both their empty cups, she put them on the shelf behind her. "I'll take twelve."

Ginevra nodded and began wrapping them up in individual gold packaging, before slotting them neatly into a green, metallic-finish gift box and tying with a gold ribbon. This took about fifteen minutes. Draco could still taste the chocolate, the flavour lingering in his mouth, reluctant to leave his taste buds; he assumed this was another reason Ginny had picked this particular one - even half of one lasted forever, the flavour lasting longer than any other sweet he believed he had tasted, making even just _one _last at least an hour, he was sure.

"You see that plate over there?" The redhead gestured to a gold and glass plate holding about twenty white chocolates.

"Uh-huh."

"Take one; I bet it's your favourite."

He grinned cheekily at her, and picked up one of the white chocolates. They were shaped like a dome, all creamy-coloured except for a wavy line of milk chocolate. He popped it whole into his mouth and bit, Ginny watching, ceasing the packaging of the chocolates for a moment. It was sweet, yet salty. The chocolate layer hadn't been very thick and the centre was honeyed almond butter praline and chunks of almonds themselves.

"Very, very good. Don't think it's my favourite, though."

Annoyance flitted across her features. _Why couldn't she read him?_ He smirked. Was he under her skin as much as she was he? He barely knew her, but felt like he'd known her forever and yet still wanted to know more; she was addictive.

"How much for my mother's chocolates?"

"Twenty-five pounds, please."

He handed over the paper notes, plucked the brown paper bag from the counter, said goodbye and left, not wanting to but required to, as he had a meeting to attend. She hadn't said goodbye back. She didn't like to say goodbye and, for some reason, especially not to him. However, before she could brood much longer, Marie Edwards entered, her nose red from the cold and her hair windswept.

0x-

"Here you are, Ellen," came the bright and bold voice of Ginevra Weasley from her kitchen. She walked through the door into her shop once again, stopping slightly as she saw Draco Malfoy had seated himself at end of the counter, next to Bill Meyers - an old man who was reading his paper and finishing up his weekly _pain chocolat - _eating a molasses cookie, which was the feature of her plate of complimentary tasters today. It had only been six days ago he'd been in here for his mother, and for some reason his being there seemed to throw her off focus for a moment.

She handed Ellen, a widow of the village, a cellophane packet of milk chocolate squares that were coated in granulated sugar, within them an apple and raspberry paste. Money was exchanged and as Ellen left, Bill too eased himself off of the stool, tucked his paper under his arm, nodded at Ginny and left his money upon the counter before following Ellen out; the two were friends of old and she was sure Bill had something of an infatuation with the old widow.

"So, Draco, why are you here this time, hmm?" asked Ginny as approached him.

Once she'd settled herself on a stool the opposite side of the counter to him, Draco had established that as she leant over, her head resting in her palms, he had a very good view of her cleavage thanks to her deep purple dress that seemed to shine a lighter shade as she moved and the silken fabric caught the light.

"Well. . ." He paused. He had no plausible reason to be here, other than the fact he was drawn to her, like a Bludger to a Quidditch player, a moth to a flame. . .a Draco to a Ginny.

"Maybe something for you this time?" she smiled. "Did you like the cookies?"

"Tasty; not my favourite though!" he laughed. She joined in the joke at her own expense.

"I never expected them to be your favourite, my dear."

"Though you have to say, everything you expect to be my favourite really hasn't been." She blushed a little, a faint pink blotch on either cheek, hardly noticeable, even on her porcelain cheeks.

She sighed, went to speak, stopped, then said it anyway. "You appear to be a challenge for me to read."

He nodded. "I am for most people."

"I'm not most people, Draco." She looked right into his eyes. "So, you want anything?"

"A drink?"

She smiled. "That I'm sure I can get you - any preferences?"

He plucked up the drink's menu and browsed for a minute or two. "Hmm, Chocolate Egg Nog, please, miss" he sassed at her.

"Certainly, _sir_" she played along. Turning her back on him, she prepared his drink, splashing in a little dark rum for extra kick.

"Thank you kindly," said the blond, adopting a southern American twang as she placed the drink before him. Ginny then sat herself down once more; the shop was desolate apart from her and Draco. "It's good."

"I know." She smiled; she knew chocolate well, knew how to manipulate it and bring out it's best; of course it was good.

"Modest."

"I'm gorgeous and intelligent too, in case you didn't notice." Her brown eyes glittered with humour and life.

"I did, as a matter of fact."

"Really, now?"

"Really."

"Did your mother like her chocolates?"

"Loved them; best she's ever tasted."

"That's because they were her favourite."

He nodded, simply accepting her gift of knowing people.

"How's Daphne? And the baby?"

It seemed like it should have been wrong, her mentioning Daphne and his unborn child, but it wasn't. He was as comfortable with her as she appeared to be with him, so much so that even discussion of the woman he was in love with while with the woman he thought - knew - he was falling desperately for did not seem awkward. And she seemed truly interested, no bitterness in her voice that he was with Daphne and not her, not that he knew for sure she felt the same as he however. He was pretty certain she wasn't a subtle woman by any stretch of the imagination, but there was this aura about her that you could never quite fathom out her motives, never quite get a grasp of the key that would unlock all of her riddles, all of her secrets.

"Baby's fine. She's good; her back's much better thanks to that Zabaglione you gave her."

"Good. I'd hoped it would work."

"It was horrible seeing her in such distress, and she wouldn't go to a Healer about it - didn't want anyone knowing she might not be perfect, that she might be suffering."

"She sees asking for help as being weak?"

"Yes; she believes I, as her soon-to-be-husband, should be the only one to be told and see her imperfections. . .silly girl, I love her, back pains and all."

Ginny smiled softly. "She's a strong character really, just wants to conform, wants to, I'd imagine, hold up your perfect and ridiculously high Malfoy standards as she is about to join your family soon."

"I suppose you're right. . ."

Suddenly, Ginny dipped down behind the counter with the speed of a Firebolt, and reappeared, a smile on her face, with a long rectangular piece of dark chocolate, encasing a piece of candied orange peel. "Your favourite," was all she said, then sat in wait for him to try it, to tell her right or wrong. He put it between his lips and bit it in half. The dark chocolate was very bitter and the orange sweeter than sweet; he popped the other half of the sweet in his mouth too, and smiled a kind of half smile, his eyes glinting mischievously.

With one long finger he beckoned her to lean right over the counter, telling her he had a secret he wanted to share with her. Not wanting to spoil the mood and tell him, "Don't be so silly, you don't have to whisper when the entire shop is empty," she did as he wished and moved until her face was only a few centimetres from his. It was then he closed the remaining space and kissed her soundly on the lips. It didn't last long - a few seconds, maybe - but it was enough, more than enough. His lips were cold and tasted bittersweet; hers were warm and malleable. He placed a hand at the side of her face and gently played with a lock of her hair. They broke apart, millimetres away from touching now, and both terribly out of breath. . .It seemed they had forgotten to breathe for the few moments they were attached.

She felt his lips graze her ear. "Still not my favourite."

"What?"

"The chocolate; not my favourite." She didn't really register his parting words, and only really was disturbed from her dreamlike state when she felt his presence leave the shop and a woman who was tall and very thin, with a smile too big for her face, entered with a small child of about eight, who'd inherited her mother's long ebony hair. Ginny knew they were there, knew they were looking and trying the sample cookies she had on display, but it didn't really register with her. She stood there, not knowing what she felt; something had stirred within her - the magic had stirred within her - she felt out of balance. She was happy, elated, content. She was sad, mourning, raging. She was feeling utterly tragic. The one person in the world she thoroughly couldn't read was the one she wanted to. The one who made her so exultant made her so distressed.

She hated he was going home to his wife. Fiancée. Whatever she was. Probably going to some high society party, where they would tell Daphne she looked radiant and beautiful - and Ginny would have to agree with them - and tell Draco, "Well done, you picked a good one in Daphne!". There'd be no mention of a woman with a shock of red hair, a passionate spirit and a chocolate shop in a rural Muggle village in the middle of nowhere. She hated herself for this. Why let him get so under her skin? Why had she gotten involved? Why couldn't she pick his favourite? This man had thrown her out of synch, forced her to lose her compass and steer her ship into un-preordained territories.

"Excuse me, miss. . ."

0x-

It had been twenty minutes since Ginevra Weasley had shut up her shop for the night, and she was well on her way to making some delicious vanilla fudge when a tapping could be heard at the shop door. Without caution, and without fear, she strode into the shop to see a tall man with blond hair and grey eyes waiting outside the glass, looking windswept and sufficiently cold; the wind was performing some terrific acrobatics tonight. Her heart suddenly began hitting her ribs so hard she was sure there'd be a permanent tattoo marring her skin. This man made her lose all sense of time and place. No longer was she standing in her chocolate shop with her hair falling out of the elegant knot at the back of her head, no longer was the wind blowing so powerfully that she could hear branches groaning, threatening to fall from the tree trunks and cause damage to homes and roads; she felt in a dimension entirely on their own. She didn't really know this man, yet had already given him the power to destroy her with just a few words.

Opening the door, he practically fell into the shop. It, due to lack of light, was almost as dark as it was outside on this December evening; however, there was a shaft of yellowish illumination falling through from the window in the door which led to the kitchen. He could think of nothing to say; he'd just needed to see it her. It had only been three day since he'd last been here, last kissed her, last talked to her, but for some inexplicable reason he'd been urged, by a unknown source within him, to come to her. "We're closed, you know," she commented.

He laughed a deep throaty sound. "Sorry - I can leave if you like."

"No, no, stay; I'm making fudge, but it won't take too long, and when it's done we could go up to the flat. . .have some dinner? A drink?"

Draco felt himself grin, slightly foolishly, he heard his inner voice reprimand him. "Sounds perfect."

"Come through, then." She led him into the kitchen, the light in there bright and over powering compared to the darkness they'd recently been in. It was a typical old countryside kitchen, a scrubbed, well loved and used air to it. Terracotta tiles lined the floor and there were thick oak surfaces upon which chocolates, biscuits and cakes sat, waiting to go on sale tomorrow, he assumed. Spices and herbs were what cluttered the many shelves; it smelt exotic, sweet, sickly, bitter and spicy all at once, all compounded together to make a melody that sung to his senses, much like she who was now stirring a light brown gelatinous substance in an iron pot.

"Pass me some vanilla, please, Draco -- on the shelf to your far left." He looked at the vast wooden ledge and almost balked. How in the name of Salazar was he supposed to know which was vanilla in this array of condiments and flavourings? She giggled into her neckerchief. "It's the jar third from the right. . .that's it; the pods." She turned back to her fudge once she was content he'd located the correct jar.

Picking out a few pieces of vanilla, he stalked towards her, predator to prey, wrapped his arms under hers, and pulled himself flush up against her; craning his neck, he lay his head on her shoulder - no easy task with her being a good foot shorter than he. She silently demonstrated how to break up the vanilla and place it in the swirling mixture piece by piece; Draco took heed and began adding little bits of the pods. "That's enough now." Tapping the wooden spoon smartly with her finger, it began to stir itself, unaided by her hands.

She turned to face Draco. It was magnificent; it was the first time they'd properly felt each other, seen each other, known each other without the glass counter in between them. Sliding away from the cooker and further down onto the scrubbed wooden worktop, Draco hoisted Ginny up onto the sideboard and she instinctively wrapped her legs around his hips, pulling him towards her. Her arms seemed to go on autopilot, sliding up the front of his chest, fleecing him of his long, dark green cloak, allowing it to pool around his feet on the floor, and they hooked themselves about his neck, her hands fastening amongst his silvery blond locks. She yanked his face towards hers and her lips were set upon his hungrily. Her blood seemed to race and her head was spinning off into giddy stratospheres she didn't know she was able to reach. Draco too was feeling similar emotions; this woman was so wonderful. Her tongue fought it's way into his mouth and coaxed his out to play, too; her hands pulled at his hair and her nails scratched at his scalp and the back of his neck. They sped up and slowed, increased the power, the meaning; magic coursed through their veins and then they stopped, Ginny's forehead resting on Draco's lips.

In a fluid motion she had pulled herself vertical again and was leaning over towards where a few trays of chocolates had been laid out. She picked a luminous pink one and slid it in between his lips, his mouth closing on her fingers too, sucking hard on them before letting her ease them out. "It's your favourite." She laughed. In the centre was an explosion of strawberry puree, surrounding that a shell of dark chocolate, then enrobing that was creamy white chocolate, and it was dusted in icing sugar and pink strawberry-flavoured powder.

"Now," he kissed her hard on the lips, "you see, it's good. . .but" _kiss, _"not" _kiss _"my" _kiss_ "favourite."

"Shame." She leant into kiss him once more, but suddenly jumped up, shoving him backwards. "My fudge!"

It appeared she'd caught it just in time, before it bubbled and burnt and had to be thrown away. Pouring it into a greaed steel, pan, she smoothed the top over with a large flat spatula of sorts and turned off the hob upon which it had been cooking. "Perfect," she announced, licking off a blob that had dripped onto her finger. Placing a protective spell over her confection, she turned to Draco. "Ready to go eat? I think we'll order Chinese - you're paying!"

"Nice to know, and what do you mean by _order Chinese_?"

"You know, take out?" He looked nonplussed at her words. "Like a restaurant that delivers to your home."

"I see."

She found herself laughing as he really did not seem to see at all. "Come on - upstairs!"

0x-

The flat was much like Ginevra Weasley; it was exotic, mysterious, beautiful and sexy. Decorated everywhere with sumptuous colour and vibrancy, it would have been hard to tell where her clothes were in these rooms, mused Draco, as much of the paint work and fabrics seemed to match her range of vintage, unique clothing. He'd never known of a witch like her. Two plates covered in half-finished noodles and pieces of fortune cookies lay upon her darkly coloured wooden table. Wax stained the surface of said table, as the candles had simply been allowed to burn right to the bottom, melting the coloured waxes and letting them run all over the old wood. Candlelight littered the apartment, as did the glow of an open fire that was fading into orange embers.

Ginny and Draco sat upon the floor, beside the hearth, Ginny propped up against an armchair and Draco leaning his back against the sofa. In both their hands was a glass of amber coloured whiskey, the wine long ago finished off; they'd been talking for hours and the cuckoo clock on Ginny's wall told them it was now three AM. They'd spoken about everything; family, the past, the War, the future, Daphne, the baby, Ginny's absence from the magical world, chocolate, beauty, sex, life. . .

"How. . .how are you so powerful?"

"Because I'm free. I'm passionate and I don't try and control my emotion or my power."

"That's dangerous, letting it control you . . ."

"I never said it controlled me, Doll; fair enough, emotion rules me, to an extent, but my power and I . . .we have an understanding - neither of us will try and manipulate the other, and it works it, really does. . .There're old, ancient magics that we all have beneath he surface. I simply unlocked mine." She took a swig of her drink, the inebriated haze not permitting her to feel the burn she normally did as it slid down her throat. The silence fell between them. The wind, still creating a frenzy outside, could be heard louder than ever; the embers of the fire cracked a little and the chink of glasses on teeth or glass being put down was all that could be heard within the darkening flat.

It was unspoken. Unannounced. But it felt planned, as though both were finely in tune with one another. One moment they were talking, then silence, and now they were kissing frantically, the alcohol and chocolate being tasted on one another's lips. Clothes were ripped off of bodies and naked skin pricked with goosebumps. They were illuminated in a muted orange glow. Her skin was so pale, blemish free like flawless porcelain; he too appeared carved from snow white marble, the pair of them an alabaster statue, not really knowing where one began and the other finished, they just seemed to mingle and unite. It was a beautiful sight that no one but the remnants of a fading fire saw.

They moved to their own beat, to a rhythm of deep magic, deeper than either of them had experienced before. Ginny felt her power rising, felt her heart swell so much she was sure it would burst - surely one person could not contain this much intensity, this much strength. She felt both torn in two and renewed. Draco too was experiencing flying to heights he was sure not even a broom could reach. His head felt taut with pressure as though under water too deep, in air too high. He was drowning and being saved, losing and winning. He felt her very presence within him, felt her power flow through him too. Electrical shocks zoomed through his system, clashing and melding with his own magic; it was tragically beautiful. Both loved and hated each other on some level of their consciousness - love stemming from a connection that had spun between them that just felt so right and hate trickling from the fact they'd never be the same again. They were changed, marked people; they now carried the signs of finding their soul mate, but knew that in this life it was probably not meant to be.

Draco was not ready for Ginny; she was an older soul than he, even though he on Earth had a year extra than his red-haired counterpart. He wouldn't be able to handle the experiences she could expose him to, the magical ability and magnitude she had at her whim. Climax came and went and neither spoke a word - no whispers of comfort or words of lament. As with everything they had, it was all simply understood.

Ginny allowed sleep to take her away, but Draco lay awake, listening, thinking. He was thinking of Daphne, of his unborn child; his wife-to-be was wonderful. He loved her, and was very much in love with her. He still wanted to move the Earth for her and had the urge to kill any man who made her cry - the irony was that if she found out about tonight, he realised on some level, it would end in suicide on his part. But what he had with Ginny was something so totally raw and animalistic he couldn't explain it. It was not lust. It was deep, deep, uncontrolled passion for one another. They were joined at the soul, fused together, but they had met too early. In the next life or the life after that they should have been together, when Draco's soul had grown more, had loved and lost and hurt more, when Ginny was ready to accept a permanent fixture in her life, instead of listening to the wind and moving around as she pleased. He could hear her heart beat, feel the rise and fall of her bare chest against his, the soft tickle of breath when she breathed against his neck. He was lulled to sleep by the lullaby that was Ginny, and, he wondered, how he'd ever managed to find peace in his slumber before he'd acquired this song with which to soothe his eyes closed, and how had unconsciousness washed over him before without this music to call it to him? He didn't know; he didn't care, for now it was here and now was beautiful.

0x-

When Ginny awoke, she did not open her eyes. She didn't need to. She could feel she was lying on her living room floor, her sheepskin rug draped over her naked body. She could smell the cold in the air and the left over food. In her mouth she could taste stale whiskey and Draco. There was no body heat besides her own, no breath but her own to disturb the silence and no footsteps in her flat; Draco was not there anymore. He'd left. What had she expected? She knew. Knew he should not be hers yet. Now he was Daphne's, his baby's, his mother's . . .he did not belong to Ginevra Weasley. She lay there, not wanting yet to peel open her eyelids and confirm to herself he was gone. She knew it. She felt it. But knowing and _knowing_ are two entirely different matters.

However, as she lay there clearing her mind, she felt something. Heard something. Knew something. The wind had changed. She could sense the soft whispers of the ancients on the breeze. They were calling to her, to her heart, her soul. . .it was time to move on, time to leave it all behind. It no longer felt like home; no longer did she feel content to remain here. She would pack up tonight and be gone and setting up shop in a new town the next morning. Tears leaked from under her lashes and ran down the side of her head, into her hair. Her ears also were wet with salt water. She did not want to leave, but she did long for change. She wanted Draco so badly it hurt her heart to think about even standing, in case she should shake off some sort of physical memory of him being here with her all night.

But she had to, had to open the shop one last time and had one last chocolate to invent here. Something special, sumptuous and oh so perfect; _his favourite._

0x-

Two days had passed since Draco had spent hours with Ginny, two days since he'd left her home in the twilight hours, and now two days later he was back, walking down the idyllic road towards her shop, ready to tell her he'd leave Daphne and everything behind if she would take him as her own. However he wasn't, as usual, greeted with the scent of chocolate - maybe she was ill and not cooking today? As he found himself in front of her window he saw there was nothing there. . .or in the shop for that matter. All the fat squares of chocolate had disappeared, the coconut covered treats, melting chocolate, cake, biscuits, _her_. . .all of it was gone. Why? Where was she? In anger he kicked hard at the wall of the butcher's next door.

"Excuse me?"

His head shot up; an elderly woman with flyaway grey hair and a portly stance had appeared, out of one of the houses, he presumed. She was holding a small brown paper bag.

"Yes?"

"Are you Mr Draco Malfoy?"

He nodded. "Yeah; yes, I am."

She beamed. "Yes, Ginevra described you well. She said if you were to return - and she was pretty sure that you would - I was to give you this."

She handed to him the bag. It was very light.

"Thanks. . .thank you," he muttered distractedly.

She nodded kindly and walked away into her home. Standing in the doorway of the now desolate chocolate shop, he opened the paper bag in his clutch. A scrap of parchment and a small metallic cardboard box were all it contained.

_Draco,_

_The wind changed, and it was time for me to go._

_All of me,_

_Ginevra x_

_PS. The chocolate is your favourite. I promise._

Numb, he opened the box. Inside lay a white chocolate heart, peppered in an orange spice of some sort. He, almost mechanically, put it to his lips and bit; white chocolate, so smooth, so pale; ginger; spicy, bright erotic orange; cherries, deep red, sweet; nougat; hard and a pale pink. It was wonderful. An explosion of flavour, a chaotic mesh of passion and something so truly sweet. It was him and it was her. Draco and Ginny. It was them. It was that night. It was his favourite.

0x-

Three months since her husband had been unfaithful to her with his soul mate, Daphne Greengrass went into labour. After twelve hours both mother and child died, leaving Draco Malfoy alone in the world. Meanwhile, a woman, in her chocolatierie, in the south of France rested her hand upon her ever-swelling twelve-week-old bump, as she took time out from making confectionary that contained cherries, nougat, ginger and white chocolate.

0x-

**Author's Note: **Nice and long one shot, aye?

Thanks to Lorna I started writing this plot bunny out really.

As we sat at the Bus Station and I explained it to her, made me want to write it

So.

Here it is.

It's of course heavily inspired by the film/book _Chocolat, _more so the book because it has this more bittersweet ending. However, well worth investing in both reading and watching it.

It has been beta'd by the wonderful Lyndsie.

Review please?

x


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